Aristotle taught us via his ancient persuasion model that to persuade we must also be an effective communicator so we can impart a clear vision and our “commander's intent.” One of the most effective ways to do this is by using compelling and engaging stories because “facts tell and stories sell,” and leaders are frequently tasked with “selling” their vision and themselves to their teams.

We learned about the Hero's Journey in the Dorothy's Journey chapter. We'll now examine some elements of this three‐part (Figure 15.1) journey structure from a neuroscience‐based perspective in relation to how it aligns with another effective and age‐old format called the three‐act play. This approach, when combined with neuroscience‐based messaging, creates the Neuron 3‐Act Play™, which has been proven successful across thousands of leadership situations for dozens of firms large and small.

We've been telling stories since the dawn of time. When told well, stories usually follow the three‐act play format often employed in the plays of Shakespeare, the poetry of Aristotle, the fables of Aesop, and movies directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Dr. Paul Zak conducted a study during which his team monitored the release of the molecule oxytocin. As we recall, this chemical stimulates feelings of love. Dr. Zak discovered that we can evoke a loving response—like that bestowed upon family members or pets—when we frame our message within a properly structured story. This works best when we tell the story using the right kind of framework and approach.

Humans thrive on stories. They engage our minds and help us connect ideas, understand ourselves and others, and learn complex concepts. The lessons learned through stories are far more memorable and often leave a deeper, more impactful, and longer‐lasting impression on our minds. They speak more directly to our emotional and instinctual brains and have a higher retention factor than logic‐based presentations.

For example, Nordstrom dramatically bolstered their brand and reputation by way of the popular story about the customer who returned a snow tire. The Nordstrom customer service rep cheerfully handled the situation and made the customer happy even though Nordstrom doesn't sell tires. When our brains hear this story, we get a boost of “like me” dopamine and “trust me” oxytocin, which solidifies the Nordstrom branding message of “we value customers.”

Neuroscience explains why stories are more engaging and stay with us longer than the black‐and‐white copy we read in a textbook or see on a PowerPoint slide. Researchers in Spain, while conducting studies in 2006, discovered that certain words such as “rose” or “mint” were understood by the language‐processing area of our brain, but also activated networks in the olfactory regions that process odors. Our brains actually smell a rose when we read a description about the sweet fragrant sent. Don't believe me? Imagine a bright yellow juicy sour lemon. You're biting into the citrus pulp of a bitter lemon right now and the sour juice is flowing across your taste buds. Are you salivating yet? If not, perhaps you've been trained by the CIA to trick lie detector tests.

Words unassociated with our senses, such as “button” or “coat,” don't stimulate anything. You're fastening the button on your shirt right now. Feel anything? Didn't think so.

Motion words also have an interesting effect on our brain. If we're reading a good thriller, for example, and the author is describing a high‐speed chase, certain words will trigger our motor cortex—the part of our brain that controls muscular movement. Researchers used an fMRI system to show that when individuals read the words “kick,” “pick,” or “lick,” brain areas that control their feet, fingers, or tongue started tapping or licking.

Jeffrey Zacks, the director of the Dynamic Cognition Laboratory at Washington University in St. Louis, said that neuroscientists and psychologists are concluding that stories can create a mental simulation of the events described. Zacks and his team conducted a study in 2009 where fMRI scans were used to record various regions of the brain that were stimulated when participants read short stories. This study revealed that when we become engrossed in fictional events happening to a story character, we feel and react as if they are real. Whether it's real or we're reading about it in a good book, the same areas in our brain light up.

A well‐told story activates areas in our brain that allow us to translate the story into our own experiences and concepts. This is called neural coupling. Also, our mirror neurons will help us feel what the protagonist feels. Finally, when our brains process the facts being told, the Broca and Wernicke areas of our brains are activated, along with our motor, sensory, and frontal cortex.

STORY STRUCTURE

Dr. Paul Zak validated that when we're experiencing a story with a dramatic arc, our brain pumps out two neurochemicals: oxytocin—the love hormone we read about previously that's involved with emotions, trust, and bonding—as well as cortisol—a stress hormone that sharpens our powers of concentration. When Zak conducted one experiment, he noted that when participants viewed an emotionally charged father and son story, many of them became more open to charitable donations.

Zak said, “We discovered that to motivate a desire to help others, a story must first sustain attention—a scarce resource in the brain—by developing tension during the narrative. If the story can create that tension, then it is likely that attentive viewers or listeners will come to share the emotions of the characters in it, and after it ends, are likely to continue mimicking the feelings and behaviors of those characters.”

Zak also found that an effective storytelling structure that will stimulate these neurochemicals is the tried‐and‐true Freytag's Pyramid (Figure 15.2).

Gustav Freytag was a nineteenth‐century German novelist who noticed several common patterns hidden in the plots of well‐written stories. He created a diagram depicting a typical structure and used a pyramid to diagram the story plot. Freytag determined that to emotionally engage readers, good stories needed to include rising action, a compelling climax, and a satisfying resolution.

Gustav's diagram is very similar to the three‐act play format that we humans have used to tell stories since a Neanderthal speared that first bison and lived to tell about it. Shakespeare used this structure for many of his stories including comedies, histories, and tragedies.

How can leaders use the three‐act play to impact and inspire others to follow a vision, embrace a firm's passion and purpose, and willingly complete difficult tasks? As we learned from former Navy SEAL Jeff Jones in a previous chapter, we can tell impactful and memorable stories.

ACT I

Whenever I tell a story to persuade a subordinate, peer, superior, or large audience, my goal in Act I is to get them to “like me” or the protagonist emotionally by increasing the dopamine level in their brains. This neurotransmitter makes us feel good and lays the foundation for trust—which is essential in persuading anyone.

Dr. Garcia‐Fresco said, “Emotions are stored in your memory centers together with the events that triggered those emotions. The more emotional events we experience in life, the more memories we form. Subconsciously our decisions are influenced by stored events and the emotions they elicit. Our brains love patterns. If we have a memory of an event that triggered a happy response, whenever we encounter a similar event, our brain will subconsciously guide us to make a decision so that it can enjoy that happy feeling again.”

In Act I, we are displaying a combination of emotional and playful ludus, as well as generous agape love. In the “story” we are telling, we begin by immersing our audience into the ordinary world as described in the Hero's Journey format.

Great writers understand that it's critical within the first few chapters of a book to grab the reader's attention and connect them emotionally with the protagonist. This could be you, or a customer, employee, stakeholder, or fictional character that illustrates your point. The operative word here is emotional. In this act, we need to primarily appeal to the emotional brain. We need to tug on heartstrings and create a “sympathetic character.” Writers often use an associative technique to do this. For example, you might show your protagonist imparting kindness or love to someone, or having that bestowed upon them. It could be something as simple as petting a dog or helping an old lady across the street.

Our emotional brain is more visual, so we need to refrain from using lots of copy, facts, figures, graphs, and so on. Dr. Garcia‐Fresco said, “We are very visual creatures. We process visual inputs much faster than anything else, hence a visual image can elicit a quicker decision. You can use storytelling to paint a picture of a present memory in their minds which will most likely trigger the resurgence of a similar memory they had or even create a new, pleasant one.”

We need to describe the protagonist's ordinary world in colorful and visual detail and show them as either unhappy or neutral, but not yet fulfilling their life's passion and purpose. We then turn up the gas and create a “call to action.” This is a situation in which the protagonist becomes motivated to act. The hero usually refuses the call to action until a mentor convinces him or her to take that first step into Act II.

For example, to help a team embrace the passion and purpose that drives a pharmaceutical firm to succeed, I might use a story about a mother who was in a happy ordinary world until her son, Johnny, was diagnosed with a serious disease. The disease has just become the antagonist. Mom got a call to action because of something the antagonist did, but she is so distraught that she can't take that first step to explore treatment options. Finally, a doctor friend convinces her to embark on her Hero's Journey to find a cure for little Johnny.

Act I should cover about 25 percent of our entire story.

ACT II

In Act II my goal is to get my audience to “trust me” or the protagonist by raising the oxytocin level in their brains. This “love” chemical helps build instinctual trust and can lower norepinephrine and cortisol levels, which our bodies produce when we are subjected to fearful, dangerous, stressful, or untrusting situations. Strange as this may sound, our objective is to initially raise norepinephrine and cortisol, temporarily, by raising the stakes in our story along with tension, anxiety, and fear. As Dr. Zak discovered, increasing cortisol also sharpens our powers of concentration. In this act, we are employing a combination of curious and passionate eros and courageous and honest philia love.

“In actuality, your decisions result from the reptilian brain influence: you need to connect to the basic instinctive part of the brain before you even try to rationalize with people,” said Dr. Garcia‐Fresco. “We all want to believe that we make rational and thoughtful decisions, but reality shows that all of our decisions begin as emotional or instinctual decisions using our reptilian or emotional brains. We then take a second step to rationalize it in our rational brain. This means that our core decision making relies on our primal instincts and emotions first.”

In the case of our fictional story, our mom is at first emotionally influenced by her doctor mentor, but then she must face a horde of instinctual obstacles on her own. To ratchet up the tension and raise the stakes, the best writers use time as a plot element, wherein our heroin is running out of time and must find the MacGuffin before it's too late. The MacGuffin in our example story is the cure for Johnny. The antagonist disease is progressing rapidly and little Johnny is losing the battle. Mom is frantically exploring options but is thwarted at every turn by other bad guys. These might be snake oil companies who promise cures but then steal the money and disappear. Pacing is critical in this act. We should use more active verbs, shorter sentences and paragraphs, and speed up the action.

By the end of Act II, our heroine is finally pointed in the right direction by a nurse who has heard about a miracle cure. The nurse was informed by a sales rep from our pharmaceutical company. Spurred by this nurse, Mom decides to research our firm and its capability to arrest this disease.

By offering a glimpse of hope toward the end of this act, we can lower cortisol and raise oxytocin and therefore trust, which will set us up for Act III.

Act II should be about 50 percent of our story.

ACT III

In Act III, my goal is to get my audience to “believe me” or my protagonist by becoming more logical and authoritative. I will do this by raising their serotonin and GABA levels as this has a calming effect on our minds, which can help make us more receptive to logical information. To accomplish this, I will use a combination of authoritative storge and dependable pragma love and impart more facts, figures, and choices. Studies have shown that positive visualization can increase serotonin levels in the brain, and one of the best ways to do that is by becoming engrossed in an engaging story.

In our fictional story, mom is learning about the cure, she's ready to trust us, but she became so jaded and confused in Act II that she's not sure which choice to make. In the meantime, the doctors report that Johnny has precious little time left. In fact, they've just discovered that there's now less time than previously thought. If she does not find a cure soon, Johnny will perish.

Mom is forced to dig deep and find an inner strength that she didn't even know she had. She must now give it her all and do whatever it takes to save her son. She takes a leap of faith and decides to trust our firm to provide a treatment. At this late stage, there are no guarantees, but we are her best logical hope. In a thrilling climactic scene, little Johnny almost doesn't make it but is saved in the last second by competent doctors and the medication provided by our company.

In this act, we seek to offer calm assurance by raising serotonin and GABA levels in the brains of our audience. For example, when we read a great mystery novel, we are amazed at how the protagonist logically brings together all the clues and facts and deductively catches the killer.

In our story, mom returns to her ordinary world, with Johnny by her side, and is compelled to bring the “magical elixir,” our medication, to all who reside there. She becomes an evangelist and spokesperson for the company, and in time, thousands of lives are saved. How did this happen? Because one sales rep truly believed that our company's products can and will save lives. She became motivated to inform as many doctors and nurses as possible, and one of those nurses told our protagonist. Thus, little Johnny is alive, happy, and healthy.

Act III should take up the remaining 25 percent of our story.

The story above is one example of how to use the Neuron 3‐Act Play (Figure 15.3) to impart an organization's vision, passion, and purpose, and emotionally charge employees to willingly embrace the “commander's intent” and become evangelists for their products or services.

In workshops, I dive much deeper into using the Neuron 3‐Act Play and the use of neuroscience in leadership, sales, and marketing applications. In these workshops, I also discuss three important additional ingredients.